


Sparrowhawk

by mediumrawr



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: D/s, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sex, F/F, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 19:08:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mediumrawr/pseuds/mediumrawr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"When you're mine, all of your scars are drowned by moments like this. You are nothing else but mine. You will want nothing else but that."</em>
</p><p>Set during or post-ME3. A response to a kmeme prompt for Miranda/Jack in an established relationship, featuring Miranda's first time topping Jack. Consult tags for appropriate warnings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sparrowhawk

 

"Relax, little dove." Miranda reached an arm across the yawning gap between them, her improbably pale, impossibly unmarred palm opened to be taken. "Can you relax for me?"

The dove's breathing scattered. Her fists clenched. Her knees ached. " I don't - "

"Shh," said Miranda. "My little dove must be quiet for me. You may say, 'yes, ma'am,' or you will not speak. Do you understand?"

"Yeah," Jack said, her voice hoarse. Miranda pointedly did  _not_  correct her, but, after a moment, Jack amended, only half-sarcastically, "Yes,  _ma'am_."

"Very good." Miranda gestured with her outstretched arm. "Come here."

The girl took a deep breath to reassure herself she had control of her body, and then she grasped the offered hand.

Miranda pulled with some large share of her genetically engineered strength, and Jack yelped as she stumbled across the space. The taller woman caught her seamlessly. For a moment they stood, not an inch between them, clasped together like a pair of ballroom dancers.

"Maybe later," Miranda said, when she was sure that the thought had occurred to both of them. She drew Jack even closer, and their lips met. The convict tasted like a bruise and blood and her barely-leashed passion strained at her lips and tongue as she fought to hold herself passive. Miranda took from her until they were both short of breath, and when she released the girl it was Jack who gasped for air.

She didn't wait; she slipped one perfect thigh between Jack's and rubbed it against Jack's crotch, still holding their bodies together.

"Little dove," she commanded, "fuck yourself on me."

Jack smiled. Miranda  _had_  wanted to start with a command she knew Jack could follow. They kissed again as Jack humped herself against Miranda's leg. Jack groaned. Miranda swallowed it into her own throat. The convict rolled her hips, trying obscenely to change the angle of contact.

"Good?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Miranda offered her most benevolent smile. "This is what I can do for you, little dove. That is - as long as you're mine."

Jack's eyes widened. Her breath hitched. Her hips never stopped moving.

"When you're mine, you can have the pleasure you've been searching for."

The convict gasped at her.

"When you're mine, all of your scars are drowned by moments like this. You are nothing else but mine. You will want nothing else but that."

The convict drove her body down into Miranda's leg over and over again. Through the thin layers of their clothing, Miranda felt something wet.

"Little dove, can you say it for me? Are you mine?"

Jack stared at her. Her mouth opened, her eyes wide, and her throat worked.

No words came forth.

She took her pleasure as she choked on the emptiness in her throat.

Miranda sighed. "Get off me."

"No!" Jack cried suddenly. "No, I can-"

"I said off." Miranda raised her hands, pressing against Jack's body.

"I'm not-"

Miranda summoned her biotics to shove Jack back. The convict stumbled four steps, falling automatically into a fighting stance. Her own biotics began to radiate from her body. 

The operative's confidence did not waver. "You want to keep going?"

"You fucking know I do!"

Miranda raised her eyebrow.

Jack flushed. "I mean - yes, ma'am."

After a moment of consideration, Miranda decided to forgive the mistake. This wasn't one of the heavy scenes she had had with other partners. Jack didn't want that, didn't even, Miranda was certain really know what that meant, and definitely wasn't in a mentally appropriate place to handle a scene like that on either end, anyway. This evening was about Jack, though. She wanted to do this for Jack, to help her learn to put herself in another person's hands, and she knew that Jack had never in her life risked her trust so far as she was at that moment doing for the agent of her demons.

So she gave Jack one more moment to feel uncomfortable, a second moment to lean forward to argue her case, and a third moment to understand the futility of her words, relax, and allow her biotic aura to fade. She said, "All right, dove. Strip."

That was another one of those orders Jack liked to follow. She had her jacket on the floor behind her and her hands at the clasp of her ridiculously old-fashioned belt before Miranda could interrupt.

"Slower," she said.

The convict glared. Her movements slowed. She pulled off the belt, and then began to unwind the single, complicated white strap that, in theory, covered her torso.

Miranda frowned. Soon - probably before the dancing - she would have to teach her lover to show off the lines of her body, or at least to sway her hips a little. For tonight it was a lost cause. And... as she watched her lover kick the heels off her trousers and present herself, totally naked, Miranda reflected that Jack's technique certainly worked for her. Under all the fear-born standoffishness was something - 

"My beautiful dove," she murmured, and smiled when Jack shifted awkwardly. She said, "You are beautiful, truly. And you are mine, even if you won't say it. In the bottom drawer, beside my bed, you will find something. You'll know it when you see it. Bring it to me."

Her lover turned away from her, and when she did Miranda unfastened the seals of her own catsuit, pulling at it with practiced hands where it clings most tightly until the whole thing pooled at her feet. She heard Jack laugh, unable to restrain it, when she saw the thing Miranda had sent her for, and smiled.

Jack turned back. She hesitated, when she saw her mistress naked, and then grinned crookedly.

"That's right, little dove," said Miranda. "Bring it here."

Jack swaggered over, holding the thing. Miranda let that swagger pass, though she hoped they would try scenes like this again, so she could work on instilling a little discipline.

"Put it on me."

The convict knelt in front of her, holding open the straps of the device, and Miranda stepped into them. As Jack lifted it and began to tighten the straps around her hips, Miranda offered only her most benevolent smile, and when she was finished Miranda stroked a hand through the convict's hair, feeling the same ambivalence about it that had struck when she had first seen her rival after all that time apart.

"Turn it on."

Jack punched the little power button. The haptics came to life on the inside of the device, and Miranda's hand tightened around her lover's hair as she felt it. 

"Good, little dove," Miranda said as her own arousal finally came fully awake. "Will you suck me?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Those lips closed around the shaft; Miranda watched, knowing her breathing was shallowing. When the lips began to slide down it, she could feel the movement against herself, bizarrely transmuted but only the more erotic for it. 

"Very good," Miranda murmured as she watched those lips bob up and down her cock. "You're very good for me, dove. I think - ohhh."

She tried to get a few more words out, but Jack's tongue ran along the base of the device and put a stop to that. She twisted her hand in her lover's hair, enough that she knew it would hurt, and Jack moaned around Miranda's cock. The device transmitted the feeling through to her pussy, but it wasn't responsible for the way it trembled up her body and into her ribs and skull.

"Dove," she breathed. "You love being on your knees for me, don't you?"

Jack responded by grazing her teeth against the cock. Miranda had to grit her teeth against the impertinent pleasure, and need, that followed.

She pulled on Jack's hair until the girl had to disengage and took a moment to breathe.

The convict stared up at her from the ground, breathing hard.

"You do love it. You love to kneel for me, don't you?"

Jack said nothing.

Her mistress, snarling, threw her back by her hair until she sprawled back across the ground. "On the bed, dove. You're running out of chances."

Without turning, Jack scrambled back to the bed. In the moment before she followed, Miranda contemplated how this strange woman had challenged and changed everything she thought about beauty. In the moment after, Miranda was on top of her lover, one and steadying the cock an inch from its destination.

"You'd better be wet for me," she said.

And  _fuck_ , she was. Miranda sank into Jack like coming home. She kept her eyes open, by some miracle, so she could see her lover's twitches.

"You like this, dove?"

"Ye-yes, ma'am."

Miranda pumped into her in reward.

"Say it again. You like this?"

"Yes. Yes, ma'am."

She pushed in again. Jack sighed.

"Keep saying it. Tell me you like this."

"Yes, ma'am," Jack said, shifting into the toy. "Yes, ma'am. Yes. Y - ma'am. Ma'am. Yes..."

She babbled on and on as her mistress savored the haptic feedback. Her nerves told her she had a cock, and she was fucking her lover, and at the same time that there was a huge thing inside her, filling her up, as if her lover was fucking her. Miranda watched her lover below her, whose words had fallen to stuttering  _yes-yes-yes_ es and  _ma'am-yes-ma'am_ s, and lowered her body until her breast hung before the convict's mouth.

Jack took the hint. The words stopped as she suckled and was fucked. Each second drove them further on. 

"This is what you are for me," Miranda said. She finally touched Jack's clit. "A depraved - ah - slut, and nothing worse. This is what I make you. Do you want to be free of your baggage, dove? Just another needy slut?"

Jack pulled free of the offered tit to gasp, "Yes, ma'am."

Miranda watched her lover teeter on the edge, desperate for release, and felt herself approaching the same crest. She slowed her strokes.

Jack's eyes widened, and her fists clenched.

"I do that for you," the mistress said. "That's what you can be for me. Everything you want. Say it."

Jack's throat quivered.

Her mistress didn't stop. She pressed against the convict's clit, making her shiver, and shifted the strap to slide deeper into her. "Dove, you're mine already. You can belong. Say it. Make the voices stop. Are you mine?"

Jack gasped. She struggled to form words. Tears formed against her eyes.

"Be what you want, dove." She pressed in again, feeling them both teetering. Her own head ached with the strain of waiting. "Be mine. Say it."

"I - " Jack choked around it. Her voice came out hoarse. "I can't."

"Try," she snarled.

"I can't," the convict said, even as she tried to press her clit into Miranda's hand.

"Fine," Miranda replied. They had made it farther, in any case, than she had expected. "You don't have to say it today. Do you hear? You're my little dove, even if you can't say the words."

Jack jerked her head up and down.

"Good. Do you need to come?"

"Yes - yes, ma'am."

"Good."

And Miranda picked her pace back up and drove the cock into her lover and the haptic feedback into herself and twisted Jack's clit, brutally, until the convict screamed, and  _then_  Miranda allowed herself to topple over the edge into blissful orgasm together.

She couldn't hold herself up.

She shivered into the bed.

She felt Jack's lips, dry and cold, against her cheek.

The device connected them still.

"Can we - " Jack stopped, thinking for once over her words. "Can we be done playing, for tonight?"

"Yeah," Miranda said. "I'm sorry if I pushed you too - "

"I had a safeword, hon. You pushed me  _perfectly_."

A beat passed. They grasped the double entendre at the same moment, and chuckled.

"I want to try again. Not tonight, but I do. That was good."

Miranda smiled. She curled up in the bed, the strap-on finally disconnecting between them. She felt Jack's body shift into its accustomed position, sprawled half on top of her. Merely the way Miranda felt when they were like this, secured by the knowledge that Jack's first instinct was to protect her from the world this way... it was true, what she had said. Jack  _was_  hers, whether she said it or not.

"What do you say? We gonna do it again?"

Miranda laughed into her girlfriend's chest. "Yes, ma'am."

**Author's Note:**

> All comments, positive or negative, are greatly appreciated. Let me know what you think, yeah?


End file.
